La Vérité
by Megana
Summary: Several kidnappings and blackmail attempts reveal the truths that several characters have desperately tried to hide.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

Meg: Once again I have proceeded to write another adventure of Meg Sarentis and the GMD characters, but I have no idea how long it will take me to finish it. I have three jobs this summer not to mention cross-country practices, saxophone lessons, SAT studying, babysitting and Writing Club. Actually I have no stories for the latter activity either; I don't share my Meg Sarentis stories with them.

JWJ: Thank God!

Lizz: You shared Chapter Five of "The Great Locomotive Chase" with us!

Meg: Yeah, up to the 'Are you drunk? Drugged?' part. Then I stopped because Mrs. P. looked like she had been corrupted enough for one day.

JWJ: That poor woman.

Meg: Oh shut up. You're the only one here not in that club!

JWJ: For a few very good reasons. One, you all read stupid stories that are about girls.

Everyone else: So?

JWJ: Two, you all usually do a little guy-bashing during those meetings.

Leigh: Actually, it's usually Meg and RAEB and Mrs. P.

RAEB: BECAUSE GUYS ARE MORONS!

Sarah: Down RAEB.

JWJ: And three, all your stories stink.

RAEB: See? Guys ARE morons.

Emma: Well, at least JWJ is.

Leigh: Pileup!

_(Everyone except Lizz tackles JWJ.)_

Lizz: Guys, that's not very nice.

RAEB: Who cares?

Lizz: Fine, guess I'll do the disclaimer. Basil, Dawson, Mrs. Judson, Ratigan and Hiram and Olivia Flaversham are owned by Disney and Eve Titus and may not be used without permission. Meg Sarentis and everyone else are owned by Megana and may not be used without permission.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night...

_(Meg: Heehee, I've always wanted to say that!_

_JWJ: Weirdo._

_Meg: Fine, fine, it was actually a dark and stormy afternoon. Happy?_

_JWJ: Not until you stop writing these dumb stories._

_Meg: Whatever.)_

It was a dark and stormy afternoon, and the little flat in Baker Street was filled with mice. Mr. Flaversham and Rahle sat in front of the fire playing a very competitive game of chess. Isabelle Fremly and Dawson sat near the front window deep in conversation. Mrs. Judson attempted to teach both Olivia and Li Yan how to knit on the other side of the room.

And I was trying to play a duet with Basil on the violin. With his help I had somewhat improved over the past months. He had been very patient with me, but there were times when I tried his patience.

"Meg, that is not a quarter note."

"Oh. I thought it was a dotted quarter."

"And this phrase here..." he played it rapidly on his violin. "Like that."

"You're too fast. Play it again, slowly."

He played the phrase again. I tried to imitate it, but got lost in the middle. "That is a B natural, not B sharp," he said, exasperated.

"It is?" I peered at the paper. "But there's the symbol for sharp, right there."

"That's the symbol for natural. This is the symbol for sharp," he said, pointing to another symbol near the top of the page. "Notice the difference?"

"Oh. But they look the same!"

"Not quite. Try it again."

I started at the beginning, but halfway through I messed up on the same phrase. "You're holding your bow wrong," said Basil, shaking his head. He took my arms and moved them in the right position. "There." I tried it again, and played most of the phrase right. Basil smiled. "Good, Megana."

Mr. Flaversham had already beaten Rahle at three games of chess, and the little French mouse was not happy.

"Vous avez de la chance," he grumbled as Flaversham took away his queen.

Olivia was learning quickly how to knit, chatting with Mrs. Judson. Li Yan, however, stared off into space. She had dropped her knitting, and it was starting to unravel.

Isabelle and Dawson conversed in low tones, looking happy. Isabelle laughed every so often. Her cheeks were red with merriment.

I suddenly felt very lonely, watching them together.

"Meg?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing that I had my violin on my shoulder, the bow lying across the strings but not moving, the last note I had played long since dead. "Oh, sorry Basil," I said distractedly, shooting one more glance at Dawson and Isabelle.

Basil followed my gaze. "And I thought I was the only one suffering from separation anxiety."

"Well, I've decided to join the club," I said, forcing out a laugh.

Basil shook his head. "That isn't all, is it?"

I scrunched up my face in mock annoyance. "You know too much about people and their emotions."

"No, I notice more about their behaviors."

"True," I said quietly.

"So what is wrong with Dawson and Isabelle?"

"Nothing's wrong with it. They're happy. I want them to be happy. It's just that I don't want them to… be... happy!" Basil raised an eyebrow. "All right, I didn't mean it in that way," I said.

"Then how did you mean it?" Basil asked filling up his pipe.

"I meant that I... I don't know. Stop confusing me!"

"How in the world am I confusing you?"

I looked at Basil. His lips were pursed and his mouth twisted to the side, his eyes wide and baffled. The expression was too comic for Basil. I must have been wearing a funny expression on my face, because we both burst out laughing.

After about a minute of helpless laughter, everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at us, confused. When we finally calmed down, Rahle snapped, "What is so funny?"

"Nothing," Basil said lightly.

"Fine! Laugh all you want, you silly people!" Rahle barked. "I will find out!"

"Find out what?" Flaversham asked him.

"Make your move!" Rahle shot back, motioning to the chessboard.

"I did about a minute ago. Checkmate."

"What? C'est impossible!" Rahle shouted, looking frantically at the chessboard. "You cheated!"

Flaversham sighed. "No, I did not."

"Yes you did!"

Isabelle looked puzzled. "What just happened?"

"I'm not sure," I answered, giggling.

Just then there was a loud banging on the door. Isabelle got up to answer it.

Mr. Liang burst in.

"Mr. Liang! We weren't expecting you for at least another hour!" Mrs. Judson said as Li Yan ran up to give her grandfather a hug.

"Hello, Li Yan," Liang said. He looked at all of us solemnly. "There was an accident. A train ran off the tracks, and is in the Thames. They're asking for all the help they can get in trying to get the survivors out."

Basil, Dawson, Flaversham, Isabelle, and I immediately grabbed our coats.

"Hold on a minute," Basil said to Isabelle and I. "You both should stay here."

"Come on, they're going to need a few volunteer nurses," Isabelle protested. I nodded in agreement.

"Someone should stay with Li Yan and Olivia," Dawson said.

"Oh, I will stay with them," Mrs. Judson said.

Even Mr. Liang shook his head. "No, they have all the medical help they can get. It's men to get survivors out of the train that they need."

"We can do that!"

"No."

"What about you?" Basil asked Rahle, who had just lit up a cigar.

"Take that disgusting thing outside!" Mrs. Judson exclaimed. She was not fond of the French mouse. Her hatred of cigars did not help matters, since Rahle had a habit of smoking them every time he visited.

"Fine! Fine!" he said nervously, quickly putting it out. He always acted like a bad schoolboy being scolded by his teacher during his interactions with her.

"Come on man, are you coming or not?" Dawson snapped.

"Where?"

Mr. Liang sighed. Basil pulled Rahle from his chair up and dragged him to the door. "That's of no concern to you right now."

"You insane English-types are all mad! A poor artist can't even enjoy himself on a miserable evening to sit by the fire! No, he has to be dragged about everywhere!"

"David, I want to help!" Isabelle said to Dawson.

"Sorry Isabelle, it's too risky."

"I don't care!"

"I want to help too!" Olivia exclaimed.

"Me also," Li Yan offered.

"NO!" everyone else said in unison. "You're too young!"

Li Yan frowned. Olivia threw herself in a chair and pouted.

"We're wasting time!" said Liang impatiently.

"Miss Fremly, you're here on invitation," said Basil. "Your father would murder poor Dawson over here if he knew you were involved in such a dangerous rescue. Out of respect for Dawson, stay here. Meg, you..." he trailed off, as if at a loss for words.

"What about me?" Rahle asked.

"You're coming!" Basil barked.

"Zut."

They started to leave. I grabbed Basil by the arm. "Basil-"

"Meg, please stay here and look after everyone."

"They can take care of themselves!"

"Please Meg," he said in a low voice, grasping my hand. "You know that Baker Street is always in danger from Ratigan. I can trust you with the responsibility of making sure everyone else is safe."

"Oh, well... all right," I said, feeling a little better about the situation.

"Thank you." He followed the others out the door.

"Be careful!" I called out to them.

"Men," Isabelle huffed as I closed the door. "They think they're the only ones that can help in an emergency."

"They do have some superiority issues, don't they?" I grinned. Isabelle smiled.

"So… that Frenchman, Rahle, he's..." she paused.

"Unbearable!" Mrs. Judson broke in. "I cannot stand that man! He is disrespectful, rude, conceited, obnoxious, and-"

"Egotistical?" I added.

"Yes!"

"Mrs. Judson, I have never heard you say such things about anyone!"

The landlady shook her head. "There are exceptions to everything. Well, I will make us some dinner."

"We'll help..."

"No, no! Go entertain the young girls," she said, shooing us away.

* * *

It was dark, and none of the men had come back home. Isabelle stared out the window. "I'm worried," she said as I approached her. "They've been gone for close to three hours."

"They'll be fine."

"But still..." she became silent.

"So Isabelle… has Dawson proposed yet?" I said mischievously.

She gave me a look of surprise. "What are you talking about? David? Propose! Hah!"

"Come on, Isabelle. He's crazy about you!"

"Is he really?" she said, chuckling.

"Of course he is! Don't you love him?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"Oh, this is so exciting! You two are perfect for each other!"

"Meg Havers!"

"Isabelle Fremly!" I mocked.

She rolled her eyes. "You need to get interested in someone else's courtship." Then her eyes widened. "What about you and Basil?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What about me and Basil?"

"You two were so cute together over there in the corner, playing that song!"

"He's being nice."

"Oh, come on! He likes you."

My heart skipped a beat. I wondered if Isabelle knew something I did not know.

Basil had been nicer to me as of late. Well, at least more tolerable. He had not even forced me to stay behind at Baker Street tonight. That did not mean, however, that he regarded me in a romantic sense… right? Sometimes I felt that we had something more than a business relationship or even a friendship. I did not think I was willing to admit that there was more.

And what about Josh? It had been about one year since his death, but I had known him so little that I felt like it was time to move on. However, I could not even begin to conceive Basil as a possible suitor.

"Never."

"You don't like him?"

"Isabelle, he drives everyone crazy! He's too... smart... for me."

"That is the single most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, Megana. And you still didn't answer my question."

"I feel nothing more for Basil than I would feel for a friend."

"You are cold."

"Why? Do you know something I don't know?"

"Well, Rahle thinks that Basil is attracted to you."

"Rahle also thinks that the Romanovs are trying to have him assassinated."

"What?"

"Long story. Does Dawson know anything about this?"

"No." (Reader, she was lying through her teeth, but I did not know this.)

"Then it is of no importance," I said lightly, walking over to Li Yan and Olivia.

"Meg, you're impossible!"

"Hello Meesus Meg," Li Yan said, still struggling with the knitting.

"How's it going?" I asked.

"This is hard."

"You will learn in time, dear," Mrs. Judson said.

I heard the sound of Toby barking from Upper 221B.

"Yes, knitting is hard," I offered. "You'll get it."

"I hope so."

A flash of lightning, followed by a crash, made us all jump. Toby stopped barking.

"What was that?" Olivia whispered.

There was another flash of lightning. The portrait of Ratigan on the mantle seemed to leer more evilly at me. I shivered, remembering Basil's warning.

"It was probably nothing," I said uncertainly. I grabbed a candle from the table and lit it. "Umm... everyone wait here."

"I'll come," Isabelle said quietly.

I looked up the dark stairs. I really did not want to go up to the second floor of the flat alone.

"All right."

We slowly ventured up the stairs to the next floor. "Why don't we look in here?" Isabelle said, motioning to my room.

I nodded. We cautiously opened the door. My room was a mess; books and papers were on every single available surface. A bed, a washstand, a bureau, and a bookcase, as well as two large trunks took up most of the floor space.

"This is your room?" Isabelle said, trying hard not to laugh, as we searched under the bed. "A little... cramped, don't you think?"

"Smallest room in the house," I said. "This was where I stayed when I worked here as a maid. When Josh died, Mrs. Judson offered me the same room. I wasn't expecting to stay here very long."

"Then what happened?"

"Oh... Basil asked me to be his... um.... secretary." We moved on to Dawson's room. His was larger. There were papers on the floors, but in neat piles.

"What's with the papers?" Isabelle asked.

"Dawson records practically all of Basil's cases. He thinks it will be very important someday."

"What about the ones in your room?"

"Information on cases I've helped with. Basil's supposed to go through it all and catalog it somehow, but he can't seem to find the time." She shook her head. I shrugged. "That's life here at Baker Street."

We continued on to the next room. "Why did you stay here so long?" she asked.

"I already told you why."

"No. What I mean is, you didn't have to. But why did you?"

"I really don't know," I confessed. "It's not like I knew Basil or Dawson well. Mrs. Judson was really the one I was close to. But maybe they made me feel safe; like I was home."

"Oh."

We had made it to the end of the hallway when I heard a yelp. It sounded like it was far away. Isabelle looked at me in alarm. "That was from downstairs," she hissed.

"It was?"

We hurried down the stairs. There was no one in sight. The fire had gone out, and the lamp was missing from the table. "Mrs. Judson? Olivia? Li Yan?" These words seemed to echo back to me with a dreadful finality. "Oh God..."

"Meg, the front door is still locked," Isabelle called.

"They have to still be here."

"Where?"

My eyes traveled to Basil's bedroom. I went to the door and threw it open.

"Looking for something?" an all-too familiar voice asked me mockingly.

My candle went out, plunging me into darkness. But I had seen enough.

My worst nightmare had come back.

* * *

Everyone: _(collective blink)_

Meg: What? Didn't any of you like that chapter?

Everyone: _(collective blink)_

Meg: It's okay. It's not one of my best beginnings. I don't want to exhaust the whole Meg/Ratigan thing by putting it in too many times, so if anyone thinks I need to drop it for awhile, then review and tell me. I'm also working out a whole Meg/Basil thing. Actually, I'm nowhere near figuring out how to approach that. I'll wait for some brilliant inspiration. So until then... _(shrugs)_

Emma: 'Until then' what?

Meg: I dunno.

Everyone: _(collective blink)_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Meg: I was suddenly inspired. I think I can really write a pretty decent story now. Dekujama: sorry about the note things. I get really off the wall when I start writing.

* * *

Multiple hands grabbed my arms and pinned them behind me. I made an attempt to call out for help, but a handkerchief then my mouth was gagged. I twisted and kicked, but it was like chasing shadows—they were everywhere and nowhere at once.

Then the lightning flashed again, revealing to me glimpses of mice, of Isabelle with her mouth open as if to scream; but was she screaming? Of Li Yan, eyes closed as if she were dead; of Mrs. Judson, fainted, being supported by a thug, of Olivia, kicking and yelling. My right arm tore free, and I slugged the nearest face, but then the room went black.

Another flash and I was entirely free, I headed for the door, but I was moving as if under water, so slowly, and the thugs were moving normally.

Strong hands pulled me, threw me back into the darkness. Darkness! Evil lurked there; was at my elbow; whispered into my ear, "Do not resist my dear, you will only make it harder for your friends."

"No!"

I was bound and gagged and taken away.

* * *

It was quarter past eleven by the time Basil, Dawson, Liang, and Flaversham arrived back at Baker Street on a hansom. Rahle had gone on to his own studio a few streets away.

Dawson took out his key to the flat, but before he could place it in the lock Basil held up a hand. "Wait," he said softly.

"What's wrong?" Flaversham asked.

"No welcoming fire, no food being baked in the oven ready for our return, no lights on at all."

"Maybe they got tired of waiting for us and went to bed," Dawson offered.

Basil threw the door open. "Unlocked," he muttered before dashing inside.

He lit a match, revealing nothing particularly out of the ordinary. The others came in after him. Basil lit a lamp as Dawson and Flaversham rushed upstairs. Liang began to search the kitchen. In a few minutes they all gathered back downstairs.

"No one's here!" Dawson exclaimed. "Where could they have gone?"

Basil slammed his fist on the mantle. "That foul sewer rat!" he burst, motioning to a spot on the mantle. "He's done it again!"

Dawson gasped. The bell, the symbol of Ratigan's greatest defeat, was no longer there.

* * *

We were huddled together in the middle of Ratigan's throne room. Thugs mingled around the walls, waiting to see what their cruel leader would do to us. Ratigan seated himself on the throne, grinning gleefully at our defenseless position.

I closed my eyes, hoping that this nightmare would all disappear. But when I opened them again I was more disappointed than before.

"Miss Sarentis, you seem angry. Any particular reason why?" he said in mock concern.

I felt my face grow hot. "You despicable man! You know exactly why I'm angry!"

"Yes, why don't you just leave us all alone?" Isabelle added, as furious as I was.

"Or does that sound too reasonable for you?" I said sarcastically.

Ratigan's grin widened. "You know what would sound reasonable to me?" he asked. I decided that this was a rhetorical question and did not response. "What would sound reasonable to me would be if you, Megana, saved yourself all of this trouble and joined with my side."

I wanted to shout "NO!" but the words would not come out of my mouth. I began to think rapidly as Isabelle shot back, "Why would she join with low-life criminals like you? You're all rotten, stupid, immoral, low-life demons!"

The thugs started to mutter to themselves, fingering weapons and glaring at Isabelle.

I meant to whisper, "Isabelle, shut up!" but it came out as a sort of half-shout, so everyone in the room heard it.

Isabelle glared at me. "Are you taking their side?" she demanded.

"Girls…" Mrs. Judson began.

"I am not taking their side!" I interrupted.

"Oh yes you are!"

"Girls!" Mrs. Judson reprimanded in a low voice. "Stop fighting. We need to stick together."

"Women," one of the thugs laughed. "They are sure feisty."

Isabelle and I blushed. We looked abashedly at each other.

"What are we going to do?" Isabelle asked softly.

"I don't know. It's almost useless to do anything. They have the upper hand."

"There's nothing we can do?"

"Can't we try to reason with him?" Mrs. Judson asked, motioning to Ratigan.

"Reason with the most diabolical mind in the world?" I scoffed. "I'm sorry Mrs. Judson. It would never work."

"Well, he did not lock us up right away. Isn't that a good sign?" she persisted.

I shot a glance at him, and my insides boiled. I just wanted to slap that smug smile off his face. "He's toying with us..."

"Professor Ratigan," Mrs. Judson said, placing her hands on her hips, "I demand that you let us go right now!"

The thugs guffawed at her show of bravado. "Let you go? But you just got here!" the criminal mastermind chuckled.

"Professor Ratigan," I said in the calmest voice I could muster, "why do you have to pick on defenseless women and adolescent girls? Is Basil becoming too much of a challenge for you?"

There was a hushed silence. All eyes were upon Ratigan. He appeared quite composed. He rose from the throne and started towards me, a mad gleam in his eyes.

"On the contrary, my dear…" he said, "…you are all exactly how I am going to finally defeat Basil."

"How?" Olivia asked, steeping out in front.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Ratigan's attention was diverted away from me.

"Patience, you little brat," he said, his eyes narrowing at her. "You will soon see. It is absolutely marvelous!"

Rafael ran in. "Professor, Igor escaped!"

"WHAT?" Ratigan yelled. He bounded out of the room, screaming, "HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?"

A majority of the thugs followed their leader. I looked to my companions. Isabelle nudged me, whispering, "Perhaps they'll forget us!"

That was too hopeful a wish. Several thugs were left to us. They grabbed each of us and dragged us out of the throne room and threw us into a small, dank cell.

* * *

Basil felt the ashes of the fire. "They had to have been taken a few hours ago. Ashes are cold." He went throughout the room, inspecting every square inch of the room. "Besides the missing bell, no traces of anything out of the ordinary."

"How are we going to find them?" Flaversham asked cautiously.

"He will drop clues as we go along, luring us into some sort of trap. Then we will be quite helpless. That is why I need you, Liang, and you, Flaversham, to stay out of this. The trap is meant for me, not for either of you."

They nodded, but Flaversham shook his head, as if agreeing against his better judgment.

"Liang, call Mouseland Yard. They may know something, but I doubt it. Dawson, come with me."

The duo went to the passage to Upper 221B. They climbed through the mouse hole, Basil softly calling to Toby. A high-pitched whimper emitted from the next room over.

"Dawson, over here!"

They heard a scratching and a clawing from behind the door to the Master's bedroom, followed by another whimper.

Basil pulled himself to a bookshelf next to the door, then jumped to the doorknob and turned it. The door cracked open. Basil dropped to the floor, and pushed open the door enough for Dawson and himself to enter.

Toby had been muzzled and leashed, the leash tied to the bedpost. He pulled and whined when he saw Basil.

The two mice worked to free the poor dog. "Ratigan's behind this!" Basil said furiously. "I will hunt that vile, disgusting sewer rat if it takes the rest of my days!"

* * *

Rahle had been thrown out of a small pub for trying to woo the landlord's pretty daughter. Now, nursing a wounded ego, he started to make his way back to his flat.

A dark figure made its way down the street in the opposite direction, looking over its shoulder every few feet. Rahle did not notice it until they both ran into each other.

"Ah! Imbecile!" the French mouse barked.

The other mouse grabbed him and looked him in the face. "Jean-Paul Rahle?" he said in a thick accent.

From the mouse's East European accent, Rahle thought it was a Romanov. He began to fight from the mouse grasp. "Get away from me! I have a gun!"

"Rahle, Rahle, it's me! It's Christopher Igor!"

"Igor?" Rahle moved to a streetlamp, to reveal a Transylvanian mouse with black fur. "What are you doing in this country?"

"I fell in with bad company. Rahle, you've got to hide me!"

"The Romanovs aren't after you too, mon ami?"

Igor was confused. "No. Ever heard of Professor Ratigan?"

Rahle gasped. "Did you not know that he was one of my clients?"

"Was?"

"Bad business deal. Haven't done business with him since."

"Oh. Rahle, hide me from him!"

"Why don't you go to the police?"

"He'll get me there!"

"I will take you to Basil of Baker Street."

"No!" the Transylvanian protested. "He'll arrest me too!"

"You have a point." Rahle looked around anxiously. "Fine, come with me. But you owe me!"

* * *

Meg: Sorry for all that dark figurative mumbo jumbo at the beginning of the chapter. I was in a really funny mood while writing it. Same with the name 'Igor.'

JWJ: Aren't you always in a funny mood when writing these stupid things?

Meg: I'll funny mood you! _(runs after him)_

RAEB: Meg, you're insane.

Meg: I know! _(laughs insanely)_

RAEB: Oh God...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Leigh: Igor is the name of Dr. Frankenstein's famous assistant in certain movie versions of that classic horror story. The book itself, however, never once mentions an Igor. Frankenstein never even had a real laboratory, or used a lot of electricity, as all the movies say. So how does Hollywood get so far away from the original story?

* * *

The golden hues of dawn streamed across the sky, its beauty was lost to Basil and Dawson as Toby flew down the streets of London, searching for a lead. Toby had not picked up even the slightest clue of the kidnappers' tracks.

Basil's face appeared hardened, set in stone, toward some harder purpose. He urged the tired dog on. Dawson held on for dear life. He was sore and tired, but all he could think about was Isabelle. Was she safe? What was Ratigan going to do to them?

* * *

Unbeknownst to them, Ratigan was as furious as they were worried. "When I find that Transylvanian I will hang him up from the ceiling and skin him alive!" the evil professor shouted. "I want Igor dead by tonight!"

We heard that order all the way to our cell. Li Yan shivered.

"He's a bad man," she said softly.

Isabelle, Mrs. Judson, and Olivia had piled on top of each other on the only cot in the room, and were fast asleep. I sighed.

"Yes, I know he's a bad man. And I'm afraid he will never change."

"What is he going to do with us, Meesus Meg?"

"I don't know," I said quietly.

The small girl patted my hand. "It will be okay."

I gave her a grateful smile at her attempt to be comforting. I gave the girl a hug.

"If Igor is not found by tonight, I will personally hang all of you!" the professor's voice screeched.

"That monster," I muttered.

A slamming of a door, followed by breaking glass, made us jump. I held Li Yan closer, hoping to forget the situation by the real presence of her body against mine. Would it be breathing in a few hours? Would any of us still be alive?

* * *

Around midmorning Rahle strolled down to Baker Street. He was on a mission: to retrieve an entire case of cigars that he had left there the night before, before the mean landlady threw them out.

He met one Mouseland Yard official standing at the door. Always wary of the official police force, he first decided to pass by and catch a glimpse of what was going on. The official glared at the master of disguises as he passed. Rahle felt guilty already for some crime unknown to even himself.

Finally, after much deliberation, the mouse went by the back door. He knocked on it loudly. "Bonjour! Madame Judson, c'est moi. It is I, Rahle. Open up!"

The door was flung open. Rahle came face-to-face with the same official. "Oh... Bonjour monsieur."

"What do you want?"

Rahle knew he'd look extremely guilty if he left now. "I... am looking for Monsieur Basil. I am a close friend, of course."

"Really?" The policeman looked extremely irritated. "Don't you know that this is a crime scene?"

"Crime scene? What crime has been committed here?"

"I will talk to him," Liang said, appearing at the door. "Rahle is a good friend of Basil's."

The official took one last look at Rahle. "All right, but he cannot come inside." To Rahle he said, "I'm watching you, bucko. One false move, and I'll have you arrested quicker than you can say, 'Long live the Queen.'" With that he left.

"What is going on here, that rude people harass me and prevent me from coming to a business associate's home?" Rahle demanded, clearly insulted.

"Forget the ego for a moment, Rahle. It's the women. Last night they were kidnapped and taken by Ratigan and his lackeys."

"All of them? Even Madame Judson?"

"Yes Rahle, even my granddaughter and Mrs. Judson."

"Ratigan did this?"

"Yes Rahle."

"Pourquoi moi, pourquoi moi? Quel tour cruel au jeu sur un homme honnête!" Rahle said, shaking one fist at the heavens.

"What?" Liang asked.

Rahle realized he had been talking to himself. "Basil is not in?"

"No, he's out with Dawson, looking for them."

"Good, I will come back later!" Rahle announced. "And get another police person for the door. That one is rude."

Liang shook his head as he left. That mouse was eccentric indeed.

* * *

The door to the cell opened. Rafael and another thug entered. "Come on, _Miss Sarentis_," Rafael said, gripping my arm.

Everyone besides Li Yan was still sleeping. The Chinese girl jumped up from where she had been sitting on the floor. "Leave Meesus Meg alone!"

"It's all right," I said softly, my body trembling as Rafael gripped my arm. "I'll be fine."

Rafael roughly shoved me out the door, and then repeatedly pushed me ahead of him all the way to the throne room.

I breathed a sigh of relief upon entering; Ratigan was nowhere in sight. I looked about the room. There were piles of jewels and gold on the floor, and a harp sat in a corner surrounded by mirrors. On a shelf nearby was an assortment of objects. I peered at one grimy little object that closely resembled a pincushion. On closer inspection I saw that it was a doll, full of pins. I almost cried out when I realized that the doll was supposed to resemble _Basil_. Then I noticed the bell. It was the prize of Ratigan's defeat atop Big Ben, what should have been his complete downfall. Ratigan must have taken it from the mantle in Basil's flat.

On the wall next to the doll was a photograph: Basil, Dawson, and Olivia, Dawson in some sort of pirate getup, the former grinning broadly, the latter two looking as if they were in a state of shock.

Just then Ratigan came into the room, apparently distracted. But at the sight of us he quickly snapped back to attention. "Good. Now leave."

The two thugs who had been holding me slipped out the door.

Ratigan took my hand and led me to the throne. "There," he said, seating me down on a small ottoman next to the throne. "Now that we're alone, perhaps I can get you to speak sensibly." He sat down.

I stared at the floor. So often I had some sort of comeback, but sometimes I felt that he could top anything I say. Curiously, I sometimes felt that way around Basil as well.

"What do you want me to say, Professor?" I began uncertainly. "That I will join you?"

"Meg, I thought you were smarter than this. You are either going to join me out of your own free will or by force."

"Taking the easy way out," I sighed. "Forcing me? That doesn't sound like a criminal mastermind to me. Isn't it more of a challenge if you get me to join you of my own free will? Think of something more creative for once!"

He looked darkly at me. I stopped breathing. A moment passed; then he went back to his wicked grin. "I'm losing my patience with you, Miss Sarentis. I will force you any way I choose."

_With Li Yan, Olivia, Isabelle, and Mrs. Judson_, I thought. He seemed to read my thoughts. "Yes. Their lives are in your hands."

"Typical," I snapped, folding my arms. "Just leave me alone for once!"

He laughed, and then stood up. "Let me tell you a little story, Meg. Once upon a time, there was a man, who, while waiting to right a great wrong done to him, came across Pandora and her box of evil. And it was to be an evil to him, because it unlocked a world of treasures. Now he knew that this world existed, but he had abhorred it with all of his being. But the box showed him, gradually, this world of complete bliss, complete happiness. It showed him paradise. But he cannot go into that world, no matter how hard he tries."

"Why not?" I said more to myself than to him.

"Because Pandora will not allow it," he said in a dangerous voice. "She takes it away from him each time. But he will try to get as close to that paradise as he can," he continued. "He will have it! And that is why I cannot leave you alone, my dear. Pandora must pay for the evil she let loose upon one poor man's very existence."

_Evil? What evil? Just listen... he needs you. He needs you_.

"This is ridiculous..." I began.

"What is? This life?" Here he motioned to the throne room around him. "Do you think you're better than all of this?"

"I think you're better than all of this, Professor. You could accomplish great things with that brain of yours."

"Don't you see, Megana? It's the challenge of crime, of getting away from the law, which my brain craves. I could have become the most respected mathematician in the world, and it would still not satisfy my cravings. I need something to stimulate my brain."

"Can't you do something else? Like helping people, instead of hurting them?"

"I brought you here because you talk sense, not for a career change."

"Sense about what? Joining with someone who has destroyed my life and everyone else's around me?"

"What kind of future do you have with Basil? Basil, who leaves you out of things, who is forced to keep you by his side, who would rather have you out of the way!"

"That's not true! He teaches me how to play the violin, he's been nicer, he's gotten better..."

"Admit it Meg, His job would be so much easier without having to contend with you all the time."

"What is this?" I said defensively. "Why do you care whether Basil's job is easier or not? And why do you care so much about me? I can never join up with someone so heartless and cruel, who would kill me in the blink of an eye without feeling even a fraction of remorse. Get someone else, because I will never, ever join you! My place is beside Basil and all that he stands for."

Ratigan gripped the arms of his throne, as if restraining himself from reacting violently. I blushed. Why had I said that particular statement? It sounded as if I cared for Basil much more deeply than our work relationship allowed.

A picture came to mind: A winter's evening, sitting by the fire watching as the snowflakes danced outside the window, Basil playing his violin. There had been many evenings like that last winter. I placed Dawson into the picture, and it seemed natural and right. Then I took Basil out of the picture. Instantly I knew what was wrong. I could easily feel comfortable without Dawson, but without Basil the picture seemed empty, incomplete. Why?

I wondered if I had grown accustomed to the idea of not having Dawson around before long from expecting Isabelle and Dawson to get married. That would explain the problem with my fireside image. Although in my heart I knew that that answer, while a practical one, was not the right one.

I shot a sideways look at Ratigan. Was that mad gleam in his eyes _jealousy_? I involuntarily shivered, suddenly more afraid for Basil than for me and my imprisoned companions. If Ratigan suspected that I felt something for Basil and managed to get his hands on the detective, I knew that Basil's end would be drawn out in much more torture and pain than Ratigan already had planned.

The rat leaned forward, a malicious smile spreading across his features. He stood up and took my arm in a vice-like grip. He pulled me up from the ottoman and wordlessly 'escorted' me back to the cell, maintaining the possessive grip on my arm. Inside the cell, he kissed my hand with contempt in front of the others and then left, slamming the door behind him.

Olivia made a face, as if something dirty had been smeared across a favorite dress. Mrs. Judson shook her head, and Isabelle put her face in her hands. Li Yan stared at the door, as if she had just witnessed something obscene.

I tried in vain to open the door. "We must get out of here!" I cried. "He'll kill us all and the people we love!"

* * *

"Igor! Wake up now, you lazy brute!"

The Transylvanian tumbled out of the bed. "It wasn't me, I swear!" he shouted as he fell at Rahle's feet. He looked up. "Oh... what do you want?"

Rahle pulled the mouse up by the collar and shoved him against the wall. "There are five femmes missing from Baker Street last night! Tell me why!"

"What? Femmes?"

"Women!" Rahle pounded Igor's head against the wall. "Tell me!"

"You're going to kill me!"

"If that is what it takes! You are involved with Ratigan, you know!"

"No, on my honour!" Igor cried. Rahle threw the poor mouse's body against the wall with all the force he could muster. "All right! I will talk!"

Rahle pressed Igor against the wall. "Where are they?"

The mouse cringed. "They were taken from Baker Street, right? Two women?"

"TWO? There were five taken!"

"Five? But the Boss said that..." Igor stopped, looking panicked at having given himself away. "No!" he cried as Rahle raised his arm to strike again. "I was not working for Ratigan. Hear me out!"

"You have two minutes," Rahle growled.

"You know that we were good comrades when I was living in Paris. Both of us bachelors, and I had used your services for disguises. Then I got a letter, and left."

"Yes, I know all that. Tell me what I don't know!"

"That letter was from my niece, my sister's daughter. I never even knew I had a niece! But Gwen and her husband had died, and the girl was alone in the world. She implored me to help her, as she was quite desolate. I went to Buda-Pesth and to Juliana. There were debts to be paid, and I did not know what to do. I had nothing but poor Juliana! Several foul men, who would not leave her alone, plagued her constantly. If I had given up on her then, she would have been forsaken."

Igor was speaking in riddles to Rahle, but the French mouse decided not to interrupt the narrative.

"Then I met a gentleman who offered my niece and I a better life. It was that fiend Professor Ratigan! I fell into crime. Juliana did not know, but she suspected, I believe. We came to London, settled down, and were comfortable enough. I was even feeling confident enough to break off my relations with Ratigan and his organization. But curse fate! He had other ideas, and when I tried to break it off, not four days ago, he took Juliana, that quiet girl, and offered her life as ransom."

"For what?" Rahle asked.

"He wanted me to lead you and Basil of Baker Street into a trap. He only decided last night that it would be for Basil's landlady and secretary."

"Idiot, he took another young woman and two little girls."

"I did not know that."

"Why did you escape, if this 'Juliana,' if she even exists, is still there?"

Igor choked back a sob. "She had taken sick with typhoid not two weeks ago. It was last night that I found out that she had finally succumbed to the disease. She is dead."

"I don't believe you!"

"On my honour, I solemnly swear that I do not lie."

Rahle paused, thinking hard. "We are going to Baker Street. You must lead Monsieur Basil to Ratigan, for then we have the element of surprise!"

* * *

Meg: Will try my hardest to get the next chapter up ASAP. It's hard when I have to work at three jobs, especially when those jobs involve me sitting at 6-8 hours at a time doing nothing, because no one goes to those pools at which I lifeguard. Yesterday I spent six hours reading _Dracula._

Leigh: _I vant to bite your little neck_.

Meg: Yeah, sure. I'd say you're the one spending long hours by a pool out in the sun all day.

Leigh: _I vant to suck your blood!_

Meg: I'm leaving. NOW!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

Meg: Leigh just wrecked our car, so I'm not in the best mood. No, she's not hurt. She ran it into a concrete pole because she was being careless and dented the bumper. And she begged me to not tell our parents, so when our parents find out they'll most likely blame it on me.

* * *

Rahle and Igor approached the guard at Lower 221B Baker Street. "We are here to see Monsieur Basil and Doctor Dawson." The Frenchmouse announced.

The guard folded his arms. Rahle was not pleased to see that it was the same one who had threatened him before. "They just left."

"WHAT? They can not have left! I want to see Monsieur Liang!"

The guard stepped into the house. A moment later Liang appeared. "Rahle? Back so soon?"

"Oui. Basil is not in?"

"No, you just missed him. He's going on a more thorough search."

"When will he be back?"

"Probably not for a while, Rahle. I'll have him speak to you when he comes back."

"Fine!" Rahle stormed off, Igor following close behind.

At the corner Rahle whirled upon Igor.

"You know the way through the sewers?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You will show me, and we are going to get the femmes ourselves!"

* * *

I paced the length of the small cell repeatedly, trying to make the sick feeling in my stomach go away. "We have to get out, we must!"

The others watched me dully. They had tried to comfort me before, but I shot down every single phrase of comfort they had offered.

"Mr. Basil will find a way, my dear," Mrs. Judson tried one last time.

"No he won't. Ratigan's going to kill him! Oh, I wish I had taken better care of everyone. This is all my fault!"

"No it isn't!" Isabelle snapped. "You have to realize that Ratigan would have found a way. From what I have read of him in the papers, he is brilliant. No wonder they call him the Napoleon of Crime. You're giving yourself too much credit for our capture!"

Olivia tried her hardest to stifle a giggle.

We heard voices outside the cell. I instinctively moved behind everyone else as if to protect myself. There was a gasp and a thud, then the metallic click of the lock. The door opened.

"Mr. Rahle?" Mrs. Judson exclaimed.

Rahle came into the room with another mouse. "Good, but we're not done yet Igor. Et bonjour, Madame Judson. Perhaps now you will let me smoke my cigars in your lovely home?"

"Oh, of course!" she cried as she embraced him. Olivia started to laugh.

"Madame, let go of me! I can't breathe!" the Frenchmouse cried.

Mrs. Judson let go of him. "See Meg? We have hope!"

"This is enough. Let's go!" Igor said nervously.

As we exited, I asked Rahle, "Where's Basil?"

"He is still searching for you. He has no clue, but I found one," he said proudly, motioning to Igor.

We hurried out of the hideout and into the sewers.

"Keep close," the Transylvanian said, holding up a lantern.

We made off at a brisk pace. After a few minutes it was apparent that Mrs. Judson could not keep up with the rest of us. Igor took her arm and tried to lead her on as quickly as possible.

"How long will it take us to get to safety?" she asked him.

"I would say about one hour."

"That long?" was Olivia's protest.

"It is a long way."

"We'll never make it!"

"Then stay here and wait for them to come," was Igor's curt reply.

Halfway through our flight we heard echoing voices behind us.

Igor glanced behind us. "It's them. Run!"

We raced along the passage, the sounds of pursuit getting closer by the minute. By this time Li Yan was lagging along with Mrs. Judson. Since Igor was already occupied with Mrs. Judson I took the Chinese girl's hand and pulled her along, feeling extremely worn out as well.

Ten minutes later we were just barely ahead. "The light, you fool!" Rahle snarled to Igor. "Turn it off!"

Igor stopped as the rest of us moved on ahead. I stopped too, suddenly inspired by an idea. I ran back and snatched the lantern out of Igor's hands. "Go, lead them out. They want me."

"What? Young lady, this is no time for games!" he protested, as I headed in the opposite direction.

"Only you can get them out!" I called back. I took the first turn I saw and continued running.

Igor caught up with the group. "Come on. Take my hand, Mrs. Judson. Take the person's next to you. We go now in darkness."

No one else noticed that one of their number was missing.

* * *

I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, vigorously trying to rub the side-stitch away. The echoing footsteps nearby sounded more like an army than a few thugs. I inhaled a few more breaths before continuing away from the noise.

I could tell that they were getting closer. I staggered but forced myself to keep going. I felt dizzy and nauseous. My side was going to burst.

"There they are! Get them!" Ratigan's voice screeched, bouncing off and amplified by the pipes.

I dropped the lantern. They could not be allowed to see that I was alone. The lights from the lamps of Ratigan's lackeys still lit up the passage fairly well, so I stumbled along.

The passage turned sharply ahead, and all in front of me was cast in impenetrable darkness. Suddenly I was no longer touching solid ground. I twisted as I fell, managing to grab the edge of the pipe I had been running through. There had been a small stream running water in the pipe, so now it was pouring on me. I spit some of it out of my mouth and screamed for help. Even the hope of Ratigan coming to my aid was welcoming at that moment.

The first one there was Rafael. "This is just too easy," he sneered. "I could just step on your hands and-" he stopped as another thug bumped into him, almost knocking him over.

"Someone help me!" I screamed again, spitting out more of the disgusting water. "For God's sake, help me!"

To my great relief, Ratigan appeared. He shoved the two thugs out of the way and lifted me up as if I weighed no more than a feather. He placed me next to him so that now he was closer to the edge. Snatching a lantern from Rafael, he leaned over the pipe and held it out, looking into the darkness below. _I could push him, and we would all be rid of him. Just one push..._

Instead I stood there and stared dumbly into the void, and the opportunity passed as Ratigan finished his inspection of the drop below and turned towards me.

"Where are the others?" said Ratigan.

I pressed my lips together, offering no answer.

"Where are they?" he repeated, leaning over me, ire sparking his yellow eyes.

I smiled smugly at him. "Far away from you!"

He grabbed me and lifted me up over the edge of the pipe. He violently shook me like a rag doll. "Tell me! Did they fall?"

I shrieked. He was actually going to kill me! I had always thought that I would meet death eagerly if ever he were to kill me, but now I feared for and wanted my life.

I began to sob. "Don't hurt me!"

When he saw my cowardice, Ratigan became crueler. "You will tell me, or I will let go. Where are they?"

"I... I took the lantern, and... ran in another direction. They did not know. I don't know where they are, what direction they went. They were only going to get us out!"

"They? Who are 'they?'" When I did not answer he shook me again. "Tell me!"

"Rahle! Rahle and... someone else. I do not remember his name. God, don't let me fall!"

"What did he look like, this other mouse?"

"He was black from head to foot, with part of his left ear torn off."

"What else?"

"Don't drop me!"

"What else? Was there a gray birthmark on his chest?"

My breaths came in irregular gasps. "I... don't remember. I didn't get a good look at him!"

"Was his name Igor?" My answer was a series of choking sobs. "Think! Was his name Christopher Igor?"

I nodded dumbly. Satisfied, Ratigan brought me back to solid ground. Rafael and Charlie shoved me back, Ratigan following.

"Retrace your steps. The others can't be far off," Ratigan said to the thugs.

Then, seeing as my front was covered in water from the pipe, Ratigan took off his cape and wrapped it around me. He handed Charles a small bottle.

"Make sure she drinks all of that."

Then he left.

I took the drink without a fight, wondering how Ratigan's mood could change so rapidly. One minute he had been threatening my life, the next he had given me his cape so I would not catch cold.

I looked at the label on the bottle. Laudanum. I leaned against the interior of the pipe, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Before long I slid down onto the wet floor of the pipe and started to fall off into sleep.

* * *

Rahle, Igor, Mrs. Judson, Olivia and Li Yan ran to the door at Baker Street. The guard held out his arm.

"Oh no, not you again! Mr. Basil's not back yet, so go away!"

"Idiot! You, monsieur, cannot even recognize the victims of last night's kidnapping, right before your very eyes?" Rahle said indignantly, motioning to the group.

The guard was speechless. "Where... what the... how?"

"Hah! Now you see, you should have let me in the first time, eh?"

"There goes the ego," Olivia said, rolling her eyes.

"You! You are under arrest for the abduction of these women!" the guard announced, handcuffing Rahle.

"WHAT? No! I saved them, not abducted them! Igor! Help me!"

"We're telling the truth, sir," Igor said.

"I can vouch for that!" Mrs. Judson said earnestly. "They came into Ratigan's lair and rescued us!"

The guard laughed. "Without getting killed? Then you _are_ a member of Ratigan's organization!" he said to Rahle.

"Witnesses!" Rahle cried, pointing to the group.

"Well sir, there are only four women here, and if I can remember correctly, there were five taken. So we must detain you until the fifth girl shows up."

"No! We have all five! See, one, two three, four..." Rahle stopped, and counted again. He then swore under his breath. "Where is Mademoiselle Havers?"

"I can explain..." Igor began.

But the guard had already blown his whistle to call for backup. "You too, you're coming with us," he said to Igor.

"You incompetent person, you are making a big mistake!" Rahle protested as policemen came into sight."

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to the jury."

* * *

RAEB: Poor Rahle.

Emma: And he's innocent!

Sarah: When is Basil coming into the picture? We haven't seen much of him.

Meg: I don't know. And I am going to kill Leigh. It's weird, though. This chapter was written right after she wrecked the car, so maybe anger is good for my writing and the speed in which I write.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Lizz: Meg is too tired to say anything. So we'll comment on the chapter!

JWJ: Why us?

Lizz: Because she trusts us.

JWJ: Hah! Stupidity runs in her family. First the car incident, now this! Okay, so where do we begin? Ah, we all mourn the death of Ronald Reagan. Condolences to his family.

Everyone: Agreed.

JWJ: Second of all, I want to elaborate on the importance of George W. Bush as this nation's leader.

Everyone: (_groan_)

Emma: JWJ, shut up! This is not a place for politics!

JWJ: Any place is a good place for politics.

Emma: Lizz, quick, post the next chapter!

Lizz: Coming!

* * *

I yawned, feeling well rested. Then I sat up with a start, on the cot in the cold, empty cell in Ratigan's lair. How much time had passed? Had the others made it to safety?

I wondered where Basil and Dawson were. Were they still looking for me?

The door of the cell opened, light flooding into the cell. The silhouette of a large rodent blocked the entrance. "Good evening Megana," a familiar voice said pleasantly.

I shivered and pulled the black cape more closely around me. Remembering who the cape belonged to, I quickly took it off and handed it to him. "Thank you," I whispered.

He handed me a red silk bundle. "Get dressed." He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

I quickly took off my damp clothes and put on the red dress he had given me and sat down on the cot.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. "Are you done?" the professor asked.

"Yes, I'm done," I said quietly.

He entered the room again. "Come with me."

I followed him silently, wondering what he was up to. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down as we entered the throne room. There was no one in sight.

It was empty of any living thing. A golden cage had been hung from the ceiling, a little to the left of the throne.

"Meg, do you know what humans sometimes do to birds?" Ratigan asked, leading me toward the throne.

"Birds? They eat them."

"No. I meant birds like canaries and doves."

"They... imprison them."

Ratigan threw open the door of the cage. Knowing what he was about to do, I took off in the opposite direction. He grabbed the back of my dress. I kicked at him. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Yes Meg!" he shouted, struggling with my wriggling body. "They imprison them in small cages, so they can stare at them all day long, and listen to them sing." He heaved me into the cage and slammed the door shut. He locked it, and giving me a look of triumph, continued, "You will be my pet bird, girl. You will stay in there, and must stay in there, and witness all that goes on in this room. And how my henchmen will receive you!"

He started to laugh, a sickening, malicious laugh. I felt completely powerless and helpless. "Oh Meg, but you will beg to get out; make no mistake about that. But my pretty bird must stay where she is, or else she will take flight like the rest of those wretches!"

I pressed my face against the bars of the cage. "Professor, this isn't funny! Let me out!"

He went up to me and stroked my face. I pulled my face away. "See Meg, you cannot get away from me now. There is not enough room to hide. No, there's not enough room to do anything!" He laughed hilariously. "Oh, I love this! What a sight!"

"You're insane!"

"Why I prefer to call it 'cleverness.'"

"Professor! Please!"

But Ratigan turned and headed out of the room. "Have fun while I'm gone!" he said, waving the key.

I listened to his footsteps trail away into the distance. I buried my face in my hands, fresh tears wetting the red silk.

* * *

The next morning's light brought Basil and Dawson bolting through the front door, of Lower 221B Baker Street, Dawson holding a newspaper by which they found out that four of the five kidnapped women had returned.

"Mrs. Judson!" Basil called. "Mrs. Judson!"

The landlady and Isabelle came into the room.

"David!" Isabelle cried, running to Dawson and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Are you both all right?" Basil asked.

"Yes," said Mrs. Judson.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you again!" Isabelle exclaimed, holding tightly to Dawson. He rubbed her back with his right hand, his eyes closed, looking as if a great weight had been released from his shoulders.

Basil sighed. He motioned to Mrs. Judson, and they moved to the other end of the room, so as to give Dawson and Isabelle some privacy. "Li Yan and Olivia are all right as well?" the detective asked.

"Yes. They're with their guardians."

"No news of Meg?"

Mrs. Judson trembled. "How did you know that we were even safe and sound? No one knew where you were or how to find you and tell you."

"I read about your reappearance in this morning's newspaper." The landlady looked pale. "Sit down, Mrs. Judson," Basil said kindly, leading her to his armchair.

"That man, Mr. Igor, he tried to tell the police, but they wouldn't listen."

"Wouldn't listen to what? Who is this Igor fellow?"

"Mr. Rahle and Mr. Igor, they came and rescued us. But Mr. Igor said that Meg went back as Professor Ratigan was pursuing us."

"She went back? Mrs. Judson, is this true?"

She started to tear up. "I don't know, I don't know! Mr. Igor said she was trying to create a diversion. But Mr. Basil, both he and Mr. Rahle are being held at Mouseland Yard!"

"Why?"

"Because they thought that they had kidnapped us."

Basil sat down. "Isabelle, come here. Mrs. Judson and Miss Fremly, please tell us, from the beginning, all that happened to you when you were in Ratigan's clutches."

They related their experience. When they were done, Basil got up. "I suppose neither of you remember the way back to Ratigan's lair." They shook their heads. Basil sighed again. He turned to Dawson. "I am sorry old chap for shortening your reunion, but I am afraid we either have to question both Rahle and this Igor, or somehow get Vole to release them."

* * *

One of Basil's many skills was his ability to quick-talk his way to get exactly what he wanted. At Mouseland Yard Basil managed to get Dawson and himself into a small room with the Transylvanian. As soon as Basil saw Igor he gave a small, knowing smile.

"Oh yes, we have had a few run-ins before, haven't we?"

Igor sat down. "I do not know what you are talking about," he said firmly, glancing nervously at the guard.

Basil turned to the guard who had led him in. "I wish to speak to this man in private."

"I am sorry Mr. Basil; I have strict orders from Vole to remain here."

Basil wrote something down on a piece of paper. After folding it up, he handed it to the guard. "Get someone to give that to Vole; I expect a reply."

The guard handed it to another guard who relayed it to Vole. In less than five minutes the guard was asked to leave the room by another policeman. As he closed the door the guard shook his head, saying, "I don't know how you do it, Mr. Basil."

Basil waited for the door to close before speaking. "Christopher Igor. So you finally gave up on crime?"

"Mr. Basil, I tried to stop your secretary, but she would not listen! I did not hand her over to Ratigan!"

"I never said you did. I just want to know one thing: why the change from Ratigan's side to ours?"

Igor repeated his story. Dawson turned to Basil. "I believe we can trust him."

"Well, there's Rahle to back up the story anyhow. Igor, what happened yesterday?"

Igor explained the events of the escape from Ratigan's lair. When he was done, Basil asked, "So what is this route through the sewers?"

Igor shook his head. "I only know the way when I am there. But when I am not..." he shrugged. "I cannot remember a thing."

"You cannot show us the way on a map?" Dawson asked. "Nothing?"

"No. I am truly sorry."

Basil stood up. "That leaves us with two choices. We must either try to get you out legally or break you out."

"You can't be serious!" Dawson exclaimed. "We'll get arrested, and then there will be no one to help Meg."

The detective pressed his lips together in determination. "We must! Time is of the essence now more than ever!"

* * *

No one realizes to the fullest extent the humiliation of being caged until it happens to them.

Henchmen came and went as they pleased. Each thug's first reaction to seeing me caged was to ask another henchman why I was there, then to go up to the cage and push it, swinging me around. It was extremely annoying. Some of them threw bottles and food at me. Others would spit at me or poke me.

I thought it would get better whenever Ratigan entered the room, but I overestimated Ratigan's compassion for me. He seemed to be amused by his henchmen's antics, and encouraged them.

By the end of the first day, I was sick of sitting on display for all the henchmen to see, with no privacy, no escape.

Ratigan sat down on his throne, and in front of all of his thugs, said, "Sing for me, Meg."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. But I was afraid of more torture.

"What shall I sing?" I asked softly.

"Anything at all."

I thought for a few moments. Then I cleared my throat and began:

_"Follow me to meadows of green _

_Past rolling hills and fast flowing streams _

_Follow me to a place of old _

_This heartland I call home._

_To a forest glen, unknown to men _

_There I shall take thee _

_Where rowan and oak reveal to me _

_Their sweet melodies._

_The dawn's early glow sings to me so _

_As the breeze kisses the sea _

_You've taken a part of my heart _

_Darling, do not leave."_

I swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in my throat. The thugs glanced at each other, abashed. Some bowed their heads as if in shame for their behavior towards me earlier. I think I made the pity me.

* * *

That night Basil and Dawson returned to the Yard. "I cannot believe we are doing this!" Dawson said in a low voice.

"They wouldn't release Igor, so now we must do it."

Once again Basil asked to see Igor, but this time at his cell. A guard showed them the way. Basil, ignoring the other inmates' jests, found Igor whimpering in a corner of his cell.

"I need to ask you another question regarding your travel through the sewers," Basil said nonchalantly to Igor. "Come here."

The mouse did not move.

"Come man, I can make your trial easier!"

Reluctantly Igor crawled to the bars. Basil held up a map. "Can you tell me the path you took?" In the meantime he slipped Igor a few sticks of dynamite and a few matches. The Transylvanian almost dropped them, but the guard appeared not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"Just leave me alone!" Igor snapped at Basil. "I do not remember."

"We'll be back tomorrow." With that, he and Dawson left.

They took positions outside the Yard. "Now we wait here, until Big Ben strikes midnight. Then Igor will light the explosives."

They waited. The clock struck eleven thirty, then eleven forty-five. Finally it struck twelve. Basil waited with bated breath. The expected blast did not come. They waited another quarter of an hour to no avail.

"Damn him, what has happened?" Basil began to head towards the Yard.

"Basil, stop!" Dawson said. 'What if Igor betrayed us?"

Basil's nerves had reached the breaking point. "A dead end! And one that is wasting valuable time! Why was she the only one that didn't make it back? What has she done to deserve this?"

The doctor shook his head, speechless.

"Dawson, I will never forgive myself if anything bad happens to her. What are we going to do?" Basil turned to him imploringly. "I don't know what to do anymore!"

"What else can we do but try again?" Dawson said, trying to sound reassuring. "Try again tomorrow night. There is no other way."

The detective clenched his hands into fists and stormed off. "Basil, where are you going?" Dawson called out after him.

"To the sewers. I must find her!"

"But that is miles upon miles of tunnels and passages! Our chances of finding her by random search are slim. And what if Ratigan is alerted to your presence long before you reach Meg? Who will save her after you've been captured?"

Basil stopped, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can't sit around and do nothing!"

"Yes you can. Go home. Eat and sleep. Be prepared to face Ratigan tomorrow."

Dawson knew this touched a sensitive spot for the great mouse detective, who was so like the Master that he even skipped meals and sleep during a case. This was no ordinary case, however; it was a battle between two great minds. Only when Dawson reminded Basil that Ratigan was eating and sleeping plenty that Basil finally relented.

Dawson patted his friend's back comfortingly as they walked back to Toby. "All we can do for Meg now is pray."

* * *

Late that night when the last of the thugs had trickled to their homes or to their various duties for the Napoleon of Crime, Ratigan sat on his throne and watched me as an enraptured child would watch a yellow canary fluttering about its cage.

"Well, how is my pretty bird today?"

If looks could kill I am sure Ratigan would have dropped over dead at that instant. But he continued to sit there, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Ah, so you want another day at it?" he asked teasingly.

"Please let me go! I give up. You win. You win. There, I've said it. Now let me out of this cage!"

"Hmmmm…" Ratigan said in mock deliberation. "No. I think I enjoy this more. My own prize, on display for everyone to see!"

I shook the bars of the cage in fury, causing the entire cage to swing back and forth. "You're demented. You're sick and evil and...demented!"

Ratigan laughed. "You would not listen to me the first time. Why should I let you out the first time you ask me to?"

"But I asked you yesterday!"

"Keep on asking. I will not let you out until I feel like it. That could be tonight or one thousand nights from now."

I worked at the door frantically. Ratigan laughed once again at my efforts, infuriating me even more. "Professor, let me out this instant!"

"No."

"What do I have to do to be let out of here?"

"So I trap not only the body, but the spirit as well." Ratigan got up and stood before me, completely satisfied with himself. I wanted to hurt him. "Oh, how marvelous it all is!"

I turned around in the cage, placing my back to him. Ratigan walked over until he was facing me once more. I turned away from him yet again. Finally he spun the cage around so that we were facing each other.

"I gave you a chance to join me a long time ago; almost two years ago, in fact." It was October 1902; the first we met was in November 1900. "You would not then, and you would not yesterday. But now you give in, unconditionally? I don't trust you. You're a witch. You enchant ignorant people with your songs and charm. But it is all for me now. And I will not let it out until I am sure it has been entirely tamed."

* * *

Meg: The song Meg sings is mine. I wrote it, therefore I own it. Whoever dares take it from me will have to face the consequences!

JWJ: Such as?

Meg: Living with you for a day. Then they will be hung by their toes from the ceiling. On a serious note: don't take it. Good poetry may be hard to write, but the type of poetry I write does not involve a lot of skill. You can write something like it too if you try.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Meg: Buda-Pesth is Budapest, former capital of Transylvania. That is no spelling mistake. In _Dracula_, a book published in 1897, it is spelled that way. I was trying to spell it as it had been spelled over 100 years ago. Sorry for any confusion!

* * *

In the morning Basil and Dawson were once again at Mouseland Yard. This time there was less trouble in seeing Igor in private than there had been before.

When the guard left the conference room, Basil folded his arms. "What happened last night?"

"What do you mean?" Igor asked.

"The dynamite! You were supposed to put it on the windows and blow the bars out, then climb out. What happened?"

Igor bowed his head. "I can explain. I am sorry for that. A guard came; I was frightened, and threw the dynamite out the window. Please forgive me."

Basil sighed. "Are you willing to do it tonight?"

"Oh yes, very!"

"Good."

* * *

Another day of torture. The throne room was empty most of the day save for the odd thug every so often. The torment did not begin until closer to evening, when they all gathered in the throne room to drink.

My legs were achy, probably from sitting in such a cramped space. I also had several dizzy spells throughout the day. I received food, but I still did not feel better. Singing for Ratigan and his lackeys took much out of me.

Still I was not let out. How long would it last?

* * *

Basil and Dawson followed the same procedure that night, smuggling in two sticks of dynamite into Igor's prison cell and then waited for him. Once again no explosion happened, the plan fell through. It was a very angry detective that marched into Mouseland Yard the next morning. Instead of a private conference, this time he entered the cell of the Transylvanian.

"Mr. Basil! I can explain!" Igor said quickly.

Basil ignored him and went straight to the mattress on Igor's cot. He lifted up the mattress. "Four sticks of dynamite and two boxes of matches. Just as I thought. Ah, what is this?" Basil held up two grimy pieces of paper. He opened them and read them. "Dawson, take a look at that," Basil said, handing him the paper.

Dawson saw that both pieces of paper had the same message. He read:

_Helping the detective will only make it worse for yourself._

_R_

"So you've been deliberately trying to postpone our search?" Dawson demanded, growing as furious as Basil.

"No, never!"

Basil gave a grim smile. "Well, those notes are proof enough to have you hanged. Come Dawson."

They turned to go. "No, wait! I can explain!"

"Interesting, you made that same exact statement yesterday. We're only wasting valuable time with you. A young lady's life is at stake, and I fear that we are already too late to save her, thanks to your lack of cooperation. I would have thought better of you, sir, who cared so much for your dear niece. Both girls are not unalike. By condemning my secretary to suffer at the hands of Ratigan, you are saying that you would allow the same to happen to Juliana."

With that, they left.

* * *

Back at Baker Street, Basil and Dawson were going over a detailed map of the sewers, trying to determine the best plan of action when Igor barged in.

"Hurry, the police are after me!"

Basil's jaw dropped. He had not expected his speech to have that much of an effect on Igor. He recovered quickly, however, and grabbed several lanterns from the table.

"Where is the entrance you take to the sewers?"

"By Jasper's thread factory."

"We'll take Toby. It will be quicker that way."

* * *

I had been trying to get some sleep when Basil and Dawson burst into the throne room.

"Basil! Over here!" I kneeled in my cage, causing it to sway a bit. I started to feel dizzy again.

"Good God!" Dawson exclaimed.

Basil ran to the cage. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Where's the key?"

"Ratigan has it."

Basil picked the lock and opened the cage door. "We don't have much time."

I tried to get out of the cage, but my legs were unstable from three days of immobility. I almost fell to the ground. Basil caught me and pulled me up.

"How long have you been in there?"

"Three days."

"Three days?" Dawson gasped. "Can you walk?"

It was extremely difficult at first, but with a few steps, I felt that my legs would suffice. "I'm all right."

"Here, put your arm over my shoulder, and lean on me," Basil said.

As we were leaving, I remembered the bell. I pulled away from Basil and stumbled to the shelf in the corner. "Meg, time is not on our side right now!" he said sharply.

I grabbed the bell, headed back to them, and wordlessly handed it to Basil.

He smiled.

We ran out of the throne room and into Igor. He appeared frozen in place, his eyes wide with fear. We looked up, only to see Ratigan and his thugs standing in front of our exit, the latter fingering knifes and guns. Our way out had been blocked.

* * *

_(Emma sprays Meg's knee with disinfectant.)_

Meg: Ow! That stings!

RAEB: Well you should have thought of that before you cut up your knee.

JWJ: _(walking in) _What the heck happened to you? Did you run into Ratigan again?

Meg: You wish. I was actually playing a very aggressive game of Manhunt at a graduation party.

JWJ: Let me guess... you were the one they were hunting?

Meg: Um... no.

Emma: She's actually more cut up than the kid they were hunting.

JWJ: _How?_

Meg: I ran into some thorn bushes.

JWJ: Moron.

Meg: It was midnight for crying out loud. I could barely see! I thought that there were only a few bushes, and I didn't mind a few scratches. But they just got taller and thicker.

JWJ: And you are how old?

Meg: Sixteen... going on seventeen.

Emma: Like the song! "I am sixteen going on seventeen..."

JWJ: Meg, grow up. This is exactly why you _still_ don't have a boyfriend!

Meg: Because I play rough games and can outrun any guy in gym class and don't mind a little mud?

JWJ: Yep, that would be about right.

Meg: One kid at the party said that I was the most hardcore chick he had ever met.

JWJ: And you think that's a good thing?

Meg: _(jumps to her feet)_ You better run!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

"Get them," Ratigan commanded.

Basil scanned our surroundings, an impromptu plan forming in his mind.

"Anyone have a knife?" Basil asked as the thugs approached.

Dawson, Igor and I shook our heads.

"Dawson, where's your pistol?"

"Right here," Dawson said, withdrawing it from the folds of his coat. He placed it on Basil's outstretched palm.

Basil raised the gun above his head and aimed for some barrels strung together on top of some crates overheard. He aimed and pulled the trigger.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _The ropes fell away and the barrels tumbled towards us.

The thugs screamed and ran for cover.

"No, you idiots! Get them! Get them!" Ratigan screamed. A barrel knocked him over.

We dodged barrels and ran through the passage.

I hardly remember our flight. All I know is that Basil supported me with his left hand, helping me along as we flew through the pipes. I felt lighthearted and free.

We burst out into daylight, and I immediately closed my eyes to the bright sun. I gradually eased them open to take my first look at freedom.

* * *

That evening, after everything had been explained to the police (Igor's escape had left a considerable hole in the wall of the jail) and Rahle had been released, all of us were back at Baker Street to discuss what had happened and what we could do next.

I sat in Basil's armchair, drinking some tea and trying to get a bitter taste out of my mouth. Li Yan sat at my feet, her grandfather next to her. The Flavershams were on the sofa along with Mrs. Judson. Igor and Rahle stood in front of the fireplace, the latter glaring at Basil because he thought the detective had purposefully left him in jail. Isabelle sat in Dawson's chair, Dawson standing behind her like a rearguard. Basil paced the length of the room, all eyes on him.

"Ratigan is definitely furious right now," Basil said as he paced the room.

"He will always be furious," Dawson said. "Everyone in this room is now a target if they were not already."

"Yes, but I am not too concerned about that. It seems to me that kidnapping or harming people is not as easy as it once was for Ratigan. He could have easily attacked us at certain times, and never did."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle asked.

"I will try to explain. Now, I have always been his enemy. Dawson has been in as much danger as I ever since the Diamond Jubilee five years ago. Hiram and Olivia Flaversham have been in danger for as long as Dawson due to their participation in Ratigan's fall after the disaster of the Diamond Jubilee. Mrs. Judson is indirectly a target due to her role as the landlady here at Baker Street. Meg here has been involved with Ratigan ever since the plan to take over Denmark failed. The rest of you were relatively safe until this incident."

"Yes, we all know that," said Isabelle. "But I still don't understand what you meant when you said that Ratigan could have easily attacked each of you, but failed to."

"I am getting to that, Miss Fremly," said Basil. "Ratigan's latest planned scheme against any of us was when he kidnapped the Flavershams in America, which from the evidence provided took years for him to plan. He didn't move any more quickly because he was afraid of being caught; he wanted it to be flawless. And it was nearly flawless. He accounted for everything except Meg's presence, which was purely accidental and unplanned. The last time he attacked before then was last October, when…" he stopped, and sighed. "When Josh Havers was killed."

"What about the Colhart case?" Dawson asked.

"Ratigan didn't plan from the beginning, so I discount that as a direct attack against us. He was an opportunist, using Colhart's schemes against the Duchess to frame Meg as a murderer. It was Colhart's men working on his orders that resulted in the assault upon you and Mrs. Judson, not Ratigan. And it was Colhart who tried to kill me, Colhart who captured Meg and I, and Colhart who killed the Duchess. Ratigan had very little to do with that.

"Anyway, Ratigan has been taking much longer to plan any crimes against any of us than he used to when he first became my nemesis so many years ago. Back then schemes of his often occurred monthly. Now they are sometimes taking as long as half a year for him to plan and carry out."

"Those fiends got into this flat with a bit of pre-planning and luck. The Master was away in Sussex, his first case in a few months, so they waited for an opportunity when the male presence would be gone from the flat. That chance came when we went to assist with the train accident. They drugged Toby and then waited for him to sleep. They then tied him up and entered through the Master's flat into ours, perfectly undetected. And, as luck would have it, they had only three grown women to contend with. I hope I do not offend any of you ladies in saying that most men are stronger than women. In saying that is true, I also am saying that it was all too easy for them to take all of you without too much difficulty."

He looked to me appealingly, as if I had been the target of offence from that comment. I nodded, making my head throb. "I remember Ratigan himself saying something to that extent to me once before. And I believe it."

"Well, they did take us, and by surprise too," Isabelle said. "We've established that."

"So where do we go from here?" Dawson asked. "We're all safe and sound. What can we do to prevent this or something worse from happening again?"

I took a sip from my cup of tea, trying to get the bitter taste out of my mouth. My head spun slightly. I leaned against the chair and closed my eyes, hoping that would make it go away.

Basil frowned, looking up at the portrait of Ratigan. "It is usually Ratigan's custom, after a defeat, to sit and brood over it for awhile. But given enough reflection over his battered ego, he will be up to something again. Everyone here should learn to use a weapon, and soon, to defend himself... or herself."

"What about Olivia and Li Yan?" Flaversham asked.

Basil looked from Olivia to Flaversham. "Flaversham, what Olivia is allowed to do is entirely up to you. If she ever needs trained, Dawson or Liang or I would be more than happy to help."

"Oh yes Daddy!" Olivia exclaimed.

"I know kung fu!" Li Yan said excitedly.

"I can use a sword," I offered. "But I'm usually not near one whenever I most need it."

"Perhaps you need to learn how to use a gun," Basil suggested, smiling.

"A gun? I've already shot Ratigan once. I don't feel comfortable doing it again."

"Why?" Igor, Flaversham, Olivia, Isabelle, and Basil demanded. The others, Mrs. Judson, Dawson, Rahle, Liang, and Li Yan seemed appalled. I was seeing black spots.

"Cold-blooded murder? We'd be as bad as Ratigan!" Mrs. Judson cried.

"He doesn't deserve to live!" Igor shouted.

"That is not for us to decide," Liang said in his quiet way.

"Hold on!" I broke in. "When I took the lantern from Igor, when he and Rahle were helping the five of us escape from Ratigan's lair, I almost fell from a pipe. I was hanging from the side, sewer water pouring on me and threatening to loosen my grip when Ratigan came and pulled me up. But he thought that Mrs. Judson, Li Yan, Isabelle, and Olivia had fallen down into the sewers. He was leaning over the edge, trying to find them. I was right next to him. I could have pushed him. I thought about it, I yearned to do it, but I did not. _I did not. I could not_. I..." I stood up and wobbled. My arms reached out to the back of Basil's armchair for support. The black spots began to grow, and the shapes in front of me became fuzzy. "I could not take his life without giving him a chance to defend himself. I can't explain it."

"Meg, he did not give Josh a chance," Basil's voice came from a fuzzy shape that was quickly melding into the other shapes around it. I started to sway, as if the earth had tilted violently away from its normal position on its axis. Then suddenly I felt nothing, only hearing a crash and a shriek.

* * *

Basil ran forward as Meg fell, knocking a table over. He caught her just before she hit the ground.

"Doctor!"

Dawson was immediately at his side, his hand on Meg's forehead. "She has a high fever." He opened her mouth, and saw brown fuzz on her tongue.

"It's the typhoid," he said quietly. "Probably from contaminated sewer water."

Igor's head bent down. "Juliana," he whispered.

* * *

My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the yellow light of a gas lantern. The rotund form of Dr. Dawson gradually came into focus. I was lying on a bed, covered with many blankets. I looked around the room; the walls were covered in dark green wallpaper instead of the yellow wallpaper of my own bedroom.

When he saw I had awakened Dawson set down a heavy volume on the ground and pushed his chair closer to me.

"Where am I?"

"In Basil's room." Dawson smiled, laying a hand on my forehead. "Rest. You're going to need your strength."

Day melted into night, night into day. Shapes moved around me. People kept coming in and picking me up, changing the sheets, bathing me. There was always someone with me, usually Mrs. Judson, Dawson or Isabelle. Basil sometimes came. How long did he stay? Sometimes it seemed like a minute, sometimes an eternity. How much time had passed?

In the darkness. A monster came out from under my bed. It came towards me, started to chase me over the rooftops of London. I tried to get away and screamed for help. I looked back, tripped and fell. The monster materialized. It was James Ratigan. He was going to tear me limb from limb, leave my legs in the gutter, my liver on a front stoop, my heart on the sidewalk, my blood streaming from the broken pieces of my body into the gutters, down the drains into the sewers, and diluted out into the river. I tried again to get away from such a fate, but Basil and Dawson grabbed my arms and held me back.

"He's going to kill me! Don't let him kill me!"

They tried to tell me that he was not going to hurt me; that he was not there. But he was right there, always coming closer. Why could they not see him?

Then he suddenly disappeared. Instead, I was floating, floating above a farm. It was my father's farm. I was on the ground. Father and the hired boy were working in the fields. I ran out to him and embraced him. "Hello, my little flower," Father said. He picked me up and swung me around. I giggled, drunk with happiness.

Father led me into the old farmhouse. I sniffed the air, the fresh bread baking in the oven. There was the old painted chest in the corner, the two silver candlesticks on the table, my little truckle bed in the corner.

And there was Mother, kneading dough for more bread. I ran up to her; she planted a kiss on my head and gave me an apple. But the apple soon melted away. That was all right. Mother and Father are here, and there is no need for apples.

Mother had my right hand, Father my left. We walked through the fields. There was a gate ahead. Beyond it I saw a wonderful garden full of beautiful flowers. I pull their arms, trying to hurry them along. Father and Mother let go of my hands and walked into the garden. They waved for me to follow them.

I took a few steps, but the sound of crying stops me. Who needed comfort? He was calling my name.

Mother and Father gave me sad looks. I extended my hands out to them, but they shook their heads and turned their backs on me, walking away. I ran towards them, but the garden disappeared into blackness.

"Meg, Meg, please listen! Do not go!" It is the same voice that called my name earlier. Now it surrounds me with the blackness.

"My God, You cannot take her yet, not until she knows that I love her! I love her with all of my being! Oh, what a miserable fool I am! Meg..." the speaker broke into sobs.

"Megana, please listen. I will protect you from Ratigan, from anyone who may try to hurt you. But please, live. Don't go. Meg!"

The darkness began to lift, the yellow glow of artificial light slowly growing. I heard a guttural groan, but it took a few moments before I registered that it was mine. Although the weight of the blankets was heavy on my chest I felt warm, as if enveloped in a womb that protected me from the world and all its troubles.

I heard more sobs, but this time they were of happiness. "Thank you, thank you! Meg, I will tell you when you are better, but know now that I love you!"

* * *

Meg: Sorry to keep you all waiting for the next chapters, but it cannot be helped. I do not have another day off from my jobs for awhile. I promise I will try to update as soon as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

Meg: Basil is not usually dramatic. I made him that way in the last chapter because Meg was dying. He was desperate. He did not want her to die.

Lizz: We all knew that! But it was so cute anyway!

Leigh: And dramatic. Meg, you are such a drama queen! Just turn this whole story into a soap opera, why don't you?

Meg: Wait till you see the next chapters. By the way, I have 22 reviews! That is so cool! "Sing Sweetly" only has three. I guess I have gone a long way since December 2002 when I first began to write these stories.

Sarah: True. I still like the GMD movie better.

Leigh: I like Ratigan! He was such a sped in the movie!

Sarah: He was not!

Meg: Yeah! Vincent Price is one cool dude!

Sarah: Whatever. Moving on now...

* * *

By the time the typhoid was under control October had passed and November had come. Ironically, the first day I was allowed solid food once again was the anniversary of the day, two years earlier, when I had stolen a music box from Basil's mantle and first met Professor Ratigan.

I knew who had spoken to me, whose voice had prevented me from letting go of my life. Dawson did not speak like that. Liang, Igor and Rahle all had accents. Not that I had expected any of them to be in love with me.

I watched him work at his chemistry set or pace the parlour from the open bedroom door. Sometimes he came in and cheered me up by playing his violin. He seemed happier than I had ever known him to be.

Every time I saw him, my heart practically jumped out of my chest. I suppose I had known it for a long time, but I loved him too. I wanted to tell him, but I could not shake off the feeling that the words I had heard had really been just a nice dream. How unreal it all seemed now. No, I would wait for him to make the first move. I could wait.

* * *

One day when both Basil and Dawson had gone out to investigate a query brought to them by a potential client, there was a knock on the window. I saw the top of someone's head quickly disappear, and an envelope leaning against the closed window.

I crawled out of bed and, wrapping a blanket around me, went over to the window. I slowly lifted the window a few millimeters so the letter would not fall. Grasping it with my fingertips, I brought the letter into the room and closed the window.

I peered at the name on the letter: _Miss Sarentis. _The handwriting was curvy and splotched, and a plain green colored wax sealed it on the other side. I felt uneasy about the nondescript nature of the envelope and the fact that I was addressed as my maiden name. I took a deep breath, broke the seal and opened the letter.

Oh, what I would give to have never read that letter!

The writer said that he knew that Basil was in love with me, and that Basil would soon confess his love to me. But joy soon turned into horror: _"If you ever pursue a romantic relationship with your 'dear' detective, only expect a visit from the angel of death."  
_  
My mind became numb. I barely read the threats of what would happen to Basil if I ever courted him. All I could feel was hatred toward the author of this black-hearted letter.

* * *

When Basil came back that afternoon he sat and chatted with me for a while. He seemed so upbeat, as if he had solved a great mystery. I pretended to be cheerful, hoping to disguise the sickness I felt in my stomach. It felt as if I was 'leading him on,' as Isabelle had said of coquettish girls who did not care a wit for a man but still attempted to ensnare them with their charms.

Joy radiated in the rooms of Lower 221 B Baker Street that evening. Everyone appeared happy except me. It was unbearable. What was I to do?

* * *

I was on edge for a few days, jumping at every noise and movement. Nothing happened. I was able to eat normal food again, and gradually began to go out for short periods of time. I tried to spend time around Isabelle or Mrs. Judson whenever Basil was in the flat, and went out with Mrs. Judson whenever she went out to run errands. This tactic worked for some time, as it prevented Basil from approaching me when I was in the flat, and took me away from him when he could have spoken to me in private.

The stress made me feel weak and spent. I must have gotten a bit ill from the constant anxiety I was in, because then Dawson noticed that I was getting paler and sleepier. After a third day of going out with Mrs. Judson, Dawson gave me a strict order to not go out for more than an hour a day because I had not fully recovered from my sickness.

I went to bed early to escape Basil's company and any possible confrontation.

Then one day, it happened. I was alone in the flat with Basil. Mrs. Judson had gone to an evening church service, and Isabelle and Dawson had gone to a restaurant. I had tried to go to the church service with Mrs. Judson, but she would not hear of it. "You don't look very well, dear," she had said.

"I'm fine. I just need a little fresh air."

"I'm not sure that is a very good idea. Is it all right with Dr. Dawson?"

"But I really feel a need to go to church this evening, Mrs. Judson!" I said, trying to sound spiritually deprived.

"Meg, God's house is anywhere you look to find it. Even right in your bedroom here at Baker Street."

I inwardly groaned, asking God why He caused such women to be great obstacles to people looking for a way out.

"Why don't you come with me next week?" Mrs. Judson suggested kindly. "I'm sure we can sway Dr. Dawson with his favorite cheesecake."

My lips turned upward into the position of a smile. Mrs. Judson returned my fake expression with a genuine one; she patted my arm, put on her mantle and left the flat.

No sooner did Mrs. Judson leave that Basil appeared from his bedroom. The blood rushed to my face, and I slowly began to move toward the stairs.

"Hello Meg," he said.

"Hi," I replied weakly. I picked up my pace, reaching the foot of the stairs.

"Meg? Could I have a word with you?"

I froze. So this was it. "All right," I said softly. I came back and stood near the fire.

"Sit down," Basil said, offering me a seat.

I sat down, feeling like I was about to be reprimanded for something I did not do.

"Meg, I've wanted to speak with you a long time."

"About what?" I began cautiously.

"Well, it's like this... erm... I've wanted to tell you... I don't want to shock you, because your feelings are your feelings... and, well, what I've wanted to say is... that..."

I had never seen him stumble over words before. My heart physically ached in anticipation of his words. Part of me wanted to scream out: "I love you!" But I partially convinced myself that he was going to say something else instead. So I blurted out:

"All right, fire me!"

Basil gave a start. "What did you say? Fire you? Why would I fire you?"

It was my turn to fumble with words. "Well, I am such a lousy secretary... I mean, you and Dawson only took me on as a charity case, and I am quite insufferable... sloppy... disorganized... clumsy... I mean, I... I barely know anything about anything... and I really need to move on now."

"Madame, you are certainly not a charity case!"

"I still think I need to start making my own way in the world," I continued, suddenly inspired. "It would make me feel so fulfilled, knowing that I am my own master."

Basil folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "With Ratigan at large? Meg, this isn't the time to be breaking off from us. We need each other now more than ever."

"I... I don't need anyone. I need... I need..."

Basil took my hand in his, obliterating all thoughts from my mind except panic. "Meg, I need you," he said quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Meg, I have been meaning to tell you this for so long. I love you. I have been in love with you for quiet some time, but I waited for the right time to tell you. The typhoid, however, made me realize that there was no right time." He looked steadily at me, but I felt his hand slightly tremor.

"Basil... I.... No! You don't love me!" I squeaked.

The detective looked as if I had just slapped him. "But I do! Meg, I have never loved anyone as I love you."

"Basil... I don't love you. I can't. You're... just a friend. A good friend," I offered, feeling so mean and stupid inside.

Basil smiled sadly, as if to say to himself, _See? I was right all along. And now I look like a buffoon._

"Basil, I am so sorry."

"No, that's quite all right. I am the one who should apologize. I did not mean to put you in such an awkward position."

His comment was followed by an uncomfortable silence. I stared at my hands, as if suddenly interested in the lines and creases in my palms.

Basil reached over for his violin. "Would you like to hear some music?" he asked, tuning the instrument.

* * *

Later that night, I wrote in my diary:

"_So many times I've tried to say_

_Exactly how I feel, _

_But in my face you see no trace _

_That any of it is real. _

_You don't seem to realize _

_The pow'r you have over me, _

_Is it possible to care so much _

_For one living being? _

_You make me want to cry sometimes, _

_You make me want to scream, _

_You've turned my world upside down,_

_You're haunting my dreams."

* * *

_

Sarah: That was sad.

Leigh: IT IS ALL SO FAKE! LIKE SOAP OPERAS!

RAEB: My whole life is a soap opera.

Sarah: Yeah, we know all too well.

Lizz: Meg owns the poem. She wrote it.

Meg: Yeah. Inspiration for the rest of the story (this chapter included) came from washing the floors of our workout room and watching a dramatic WWI movie.

RAEB: And we're supposed to care?

Meg: Hey, I get inspiration from really weird situations.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when I woke up the next morning. I dressed quickly and slipped out of my bedroom, hoping to avoid Basil and Dawson on my way to the kitchen. As luck would have it, Isabelle was halfway up the stairs as I began to descend.

"Hello," I said.

"Meg Havers!" she said, waving a finger at me.

I raised an eyebrow. "What did I do?"

"What happened last night?"

"Basil _told you_?"

"Not exactly. He told David. I was... erm, just listening in."

"Also known as eavesdropping."

"I was not!"

"Basil told Dawson?"

"Don't get angry. David had been pushing him to say something to you for weeks."

I groaned. "I feel so awful. Poor Basil."

Isabelle frowned. "You don't love him?"

I hesitated, fighting the urge to spill the secret that had been gnawing away at me for days. Unfortunately I knew that Isabelle was not good at keeping her mouth shut. "No. I don't. Why did this have to happen?"

"I suppose it is for the best. Imagine what Ratigan's reaction would have been had something evolved between you two. He would have surely made your lives a living hell."

_You have no idea,_ I thought.

* * *

Life at Baker Street grew awkward. Although Basil was kind to me, I felt that he was now avoiding me. I, in my turn, tried to not look into his eyes. I found myself addressing Dawson more often than Basil, especially when it was something that concerned both men. He in his turn appeared to delve deeper into work. After one week of this game of pretending that everything between us was as it had been, I decided that I could not live there anymore. Isabelle asked me to come with her to Exeter and stay with her aunt for a week. I readily accepted the invitation, packed my bags and left.

Exeter was a stormy and windy place in November, but Ms. Hamilton's house was welcoming. She had visitors nearly every day, which kept the place lively and provided enough distraction to slightly lift my spirits.

I had promised to stay one week. I remained for two, then for three. I attended several parties with Isabelle, but I cannot say that I enjoyed them. She tried to introduce me to several eligible men, but a poor widow is not attractive to many, and I was not receptive to any attentions I did receive.

It was in the week before Christmas that we learned that Basil and Dawson were in the neighborhood on another case. My spirits dropped.

The detective and the doctor came to Ms. Hamilton's on the second day they were in town. I faked an illness, which was not hard to do considering my nerves were nearly shot. They asked to see me, but I would not allow it. What a wreck I had become!

On the third evening of their stay Dawson came to visit Isabelle. Basil was not with him, so I came down the stairs to spend the evening with them. We remained in the parlour, talking, for most of the evening. Another man, a Mr. Morris Lawrence, had come to call upon Ms. Hamilton, and focused his attentions on me. He kept trying to steer me to the other side of the room and engage me in conversation. I acted bored and distant, too unhappy to open myself up to this strange man.

During one of Mr. Lawrence's dull stories about his job as a clerk for a small government office, my mind drifted to Basil of Baker Street. I wondered what the detective was doing this evening, by himself.

* * *

The mouse in question was kneeling next to Meg's traveling bag, carefully rummaging through its contents.

Although he had taken her rejection of his affections well, her consequent behavior alarmed him. He suspected that Ratigan had threatened her to stay away from the detective. He had searched her room at Baker Street shortly after she left for a clue to support his theory, but there was no evidence to prove anything of the sort. Being a thorough investigator, he decided to check the belongings she had brought with her to Exeter.

He moved from the traveling bag to the dresser, opening the drawers and searching through them.

Half an hour later he stood in the center of the room, everything in place except a maroon leather-bound diary, which he had taken from its hiding place in a pillowcase. He shook its pages, hoping that a note or some piece of evidence would fall out. Nothing.

Basil bit his lower lip, nervously tapping the diary. After a few moments of deliberation he shook his head. He gently placed the journal back into the pillowcase.

Hearing footsteps outside of the door, Basil threw himself under the bed.

The door creaked open. Basil peeked out from under the bed as Meg entered, closing the door behind her. She went to the closet. Basil slid further under the bed. Now he could only see the hem of her skirt and her shoes.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Meg said.

Another skirt and pair of shoes entered Basil's vision. "Meg, be happy," said Isabelle's voice.

"I am happy. Exeter is such a wonderful place."

"Not like London."

"No."

"Or Baker Street."

Silence.

"Don't you miss Baker Street?"

A pause. Then: "Sometimes one needs to get away from one's surroundings."

"For a month?"

"I'm sorry Isabelle. I guess I have worn out my welcome."

"That's not what I mean!"

"Then what do you mean?" Meg said, sounding annoyed. "Do you mean that I should go back to Baker Street and continue to act as if nothing ever happened?"

"Why can't you just be friends with Basil again like you used to?"

"Because nothing is like it was before."

"Meg, it's really bad that you turned Basil down, but to be so antisocial to every other man here is just too much." There was a pause. "Do you miss Josh?"

"No... not as I used to. I really have moved on. In most ways. The only way that is blocked comes in the form of Ratigan."

"How so?"

"Always there, threatening, like some bogey-man. Like, I can't have a happy or normal life unless he's not there, because he is always going to prevent it."

"I'm sorry Meg."

"I mean..." she continued, "what if he killed Basil just because he thought that Basil had feelings for me?"

Basil listened more closely.

"True," said Isabelle.

"I don't know," Meg said. "I don't know."

Basil heard the sounds of a heavy object removed from a wooden shelf, the metallic clang of a knife being unsheathed.

"What are you doing?" Isabelle asked.

"Like I told you, my life can't be normal. I check the closet, behind the curtains, and under the bed for any intruders every night before I go to sleep."

Beads of sweat broke out on Basil's forehead. He peeked out again from under the bed. Isabelle was between him and the door. Meg checked the closet and moved to the windows on the other side of the room, making sure that they were latched. Then she approached the bed.

Isabelle was on one side, Meg on the other. Someone was going to see the detective.

As Meg knelt to the ground, Basil rolled out from under the bed in Isabelle's direction.

Basil put a finger to his lips as Isabelle gave a little shriek. She appeared as though she were about to faint.

"Isabelle!" Meg jumped up. Basil slid back under the bed as she ran to her friend. "Isabelle, what is it?"

"Nuh-nothing."

"You're as white as a sheet! What, is someone here?" Meg fell to the ground again. Basil barely had time to roll out on the other side.

"No... I just remembered something..." Isabelle said slowly. "I forgot to do something... Meg, I lost my... my string of pearls."

There was a long pause. "When?"

"Help me look for them. Please?"

"All right," Meg said slowly. The two girls left the room.

Basil darted out into the hallway, where he met Isabelle coming out of her room. "Get in here, quick!" she said, shoving him into a linen closet.

* * *

Almost an hour later, after everyone had gone to bed, the door of the linen closet opened.

"Mr. Basil, what in the world do you think you are doing?" Isabelle hissed in a low voice.

"Can we speak somewhere in private?" Basil asked quietly.

Isabelle sighed. "Follow me."

She took him down the stairs and ushered him into the library. Isabelle locked the door and pocketed the key.

"Mr. Basil, what in the world were you doing in Meg's room at night? I should have you arrested!" she exclaimed.

The detective thought it was time to stop her from getting ideas. "Calm down Miss Fremly. I can explain."

Isabelle folded her arms and glared at him. "Amuse me. I would love to hear your insane explanation."

"You have some idea of what happened between Meg and I, just before she came to Exeter with you?"

"Yes."

Basil's eyes flew to the ceiling, as if calling on a higher power for assistance. "I have been concerned that she had been threatened by Ratigan in some way."

"You mean that she really does love you, but she can't admit it because Ratigan threatened to do something to you?" Isabelle practically squealed with excitement. "Oh, I knew it!"

"So it is true?" Basil asked, sounding more hopeful than he had intended.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Didn't you find out?"

"No. I was looking for some sort of evidence to that theory of mine. I searched her room at Baker Street, but failed to come up with anything."

"So you came here to look? The case was a cover-up story?" Isabelle said, growing in her excitement.

"Miss Fremly, you're jumping to conclusions. I was indeed called here on a case. Since we happened to be in the neighborhood... Miss Fremly, forgive me for the way in which I have acted."

"What way?"

"For breaking into your aunt's home and invading the privacy of your friend."

"Mr. Basil, I..." she stopped. "I was hoping that you would come along, but not in this manner. I asked David about you, and he says that although you seem happy, you are quiet and withdrawn at times. I believe you are heartbroken. Is that true?"

"I just want to know the truth. Miss Fremly, I do not need Meg to care for me. Her actions, however, have alarmed me. Alienating herself from Dawson and I is much too dangerous, especially with Ratigan still after her."

"I believe that she loves you."

Basil scoffed. "She has a curious way of showing it."

Isabelle sighed. "She's been acting very peculiar lately. She does not like to go out much. I have to force her to make any normal conversation with any man. And whenever I bring up London and Baker Street she abruptly changes the subject."

"Miss Fremly, would you do me a favor?"

"Certainly."

"I am leaving for London tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But Mr. Basil, it will be Christmas Eve! David is staying in Exeter for the holiday. My whole family will be here. You are welcome to join us."

"I am afraid that I must turn down your invitation. Mrs. Judson has no family, so I thought that I would keep her company this Christmas. But I will stop by here in the morning, before the train leaves. Can you try to get the truth out of Meg? Tell her that if Ratigan is threatening her in any way that there are people who care enough about her to help. Ratigan has had it in for me ever since our paths first crossed, so any new threat to my life is in actuality an old one. You understand?"

"Yes, I do. Funny, I never thought of it like that before!"

"If she wants to speak to me, I will be waiting by the gate until half-past eleven."

"All right."

* * *

JWJ: He broke into her bedroom and started looking through all of her things? That is not chivalrous.

RAEB: _(sarcastically) _Wow, you actually know big words!

JWJ: And you do?

Lizz: What is going to happen next?

Leigh: _(shrugs)_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

* * *

RAEB: I got it! We can put Ratigan in jail and keep him there, and then Meg and Basil can be together!

Sarah: That's too easy. We would have to probably make Ratigan lose his memory or something.

JWJ: Nah. Then he might forget about politics.

Everyone: GREAT!

JWJ: You're all ignorant morons! Learn what runs this country.

Lizz: It isn't politics. It's people.

JWJ: People behind the politics.

Meg: And politics after the story, because I really don't feel like another political debate. Last chapter!

* * *

Isabelle paced the hallway in front of Meg's room. It was almost eleven o'clock, and the silly dolt was still asleep! Basil had been outside since half past nine. Isabelle had invited him inside, but he had declined. Now that loony detective was standing outside in the freezing cold rain! If Meg did not come out of there soon, Isabelle was going to personally drag her out of bed.

* * *

Strange dream. Isabelle was marrying Mr. Lawrence, and Dawson was the best man. As the wedding party got into the carriage, which included Rahle, Olivia, Li Yan, and Rafael, Dawson leaned out one of the windows, calling, "Meg! Meg! Wake up! Meg!"

"Meg! Meg!" I was shaken violently awake, so violently that I tumbled out of the bed.

"Ouch! What? What happened?"

I looked up from the tangle of bedclothes. Isabelle stood over me, her arms folded and a frown on her face.

"What was that for?" I exclaimed.

She shrugged. "You overslept."

"I had trouble falling asleep last night."

"I have a question. It just occurred to me that there might be a reason why you've been avoiding Basil like the plague."

My eyes grew wide. "I am not avoiding him like the plague!"

"Just hear me out."

I disentangled myself from the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. "All right. I want to hear this brilliant theory of yours."

"You have to promise me to tell me if it is true or not."

I paused, deliberating whether to tell her if she happened to be accurate.

"All right, if you make an accurate assumption, and I tell you that it is true, you will promise not to tell anyone?"

"Certainly."

"On pain of death?"

"Wow, I haven't heard that one since I was twelve. Fine, on pain of death."

I sighed. "I am dead serious."

"And so am I!"

"All right. Give me your theory."

Isabelle pulled a chair over and sat down so that we were facing each other. "Ratigan has contacted you and threatened Basil's life if you ever admit to being in love with him. Am I right?"

My face showed no emotion, but my heart was beating wildly. I gave a half-hearted laugh. "What an absurd idea!"

"Is it true?"

"No!"

Isabelle shook her head. "You're such a liar!"

"How would you know?"

She pointed to the maroon diary on my bedstead. It suddenly occurred to me that the diary should have been in one of the pillowcases. "You've read my diary! How... how could..." A wave of emotions overwhelmed me. I started to cry. "It's true! It's true!"

"That's all?" Isabelle asked, sounding irritated.

"What?"

"I can't believe you! You let yourself be frightened by a little letter from a man who is set on making your life miserable? Meg, you know better than that!" she exclaimed.

Anger and embarrassment grew within me. "If Dawson's life was being threatened, wouldn't you do all you could within your power to protect him?"

"Yes, I would. And I don't blame you for trying to protect Basil, except that this is Ratigan we are talking about! Ratigan has been threatening to kill Basil ever since they were first pitted against each other. Basil has accepted that fact by continuing to pursue that villain. Ratigan is going to try to kill Basil whether you stay away from that man or not."

"I can't be sure of that," I began.

"Stop it!" she exclaimed. "Stop acting like Meg Havers, and start acting like Meg Sarentis!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Isabelle took a deep breath. "I did not know you before you became Meg Havers, but from what I hear, you were a wild and carefree young woman. Now all I see is a ghost of that girl. Why? Because of Ratigan? Then you're letting him defeat you. He's getting to you, up there," she tapped my head, "because you are letting him. The only person who is really defeating you is yourself. And you are accepting defeat by not accepting Basil. You... do love Basil, right?"

I nodded. "I was unaware of it for the longest time, that it was love. And it feels so much deeper than it had been with Josh."

"Then give the poor man a chance for goodness sakes!"

"Oh, what a complete idiot I have been! He is never going to forgive me!" I hid my face in a pillow and moaned.

"Come here." Isabelle took my hand and led me to a window. I looked out into the dreary morning. A man was standing under an umbrella by the front gate.

"Basil?"

"Yes."

I hurriedly backed away from the curtain. 'What is he doing here?"

"He hoped he might be able to speak with you before he went back to London."

"How long has he been there?"

"Since half past nine."

"What time is it?"

"Half past eleven."

"What! Why didn't he come inside?"

"I asked him to, but he wouldn't. You must see him right away! He's leaving for London by the twelve o'clock train."

"No!" I ran to the door.

"Wait! Meg, you're not even dressed!"

I flew to the dresser and pulled out a dress. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"You usually don't sleep in that late!"

"I was..." I said as I tried to put my leg through a shirt sleeve, "...so miserable. And he won't stay in Exeter?"

"He wanted to spend Christmas with Mrs. Judson."

"She has no family. I forgot." I managed to get the dress on and fumbled with the buttons. "How selfish I have been! I forgot all about her in my own selfishness."

Isabelle tied my boots for me. "Maybe it will be too late to say anything."

"This train is the last one to London before the holiday?"

"Yes."

"I must personally speak with him and explain why I have been avoiding him, or else I may never get the nerve to do so."

I was fully dressed. My hair was wild and uncombed, but I knew there was no time for that. I ran to the window. "No! Isabelle, he's gone!"

She was at my side. "I suppose he thought that you would never come."

I felt like something within me was dying. How could I last until the next train to London?

I flew down the stairs and grabbed my cloak and my hat.

"Meg?" Isabelle called out from the top of the stairs.

"I am going to find him!"

I ran out the door and looked down the street. No sign of him. I ran in the direction of the station. The rain poured as I dodged around last-minute Christmas shoppers, making my way through the mud to the train station.

The platforms were swarming with mice and humans. I stood on the tips of my toes, searching for the deerstalker hat, the Inverness cape.

"Basil! Basil! Basil of Baker Street!" I called out. Seeing no reaction from the throng of people, I pushed my way through the crowd, towards the London train. A few people snapped at me as I bumped into them and shoved them away. My focus was not on their words, but on the countless faces that came my way as I searched for the detective. "Basil!" No one responded. I choked back a sob. My heart would melt if I could not rectify my wrongs before he left.

The conductor hollered for passengers of the London train to begin boarding. I pushed on my way up to the train, searching the various entrances for the great mouse detective.

Then I caught sight of the brown Inverness and deerstalker on a mouse about to board the train a few paces away. "BASIL!"

He turned around and scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes jumping from face to face. "BASIL!" I cried again.

His green eyes fell upon me as I waved my hand over my head. "Meg!" He jumped off the steps and began to push his way through the crowd towards me.

Tears of joy rolled down my cheeks as I made my way towards him. I ran to him and threw my arms around him.

"Basil! Basil, I am so sorry. Ratigan threatened to kill you unless I told you that I didn't love you. But I do! I do love you! Please forgive me!"

He held onto me. "That fiend! How could he do that to you?"

"I am sorry!"

"Don't apologize. That is not important. What is important is you've told me the truth and have stopped running away. I only want to help you."

I smiled and kissed him on the lips. His mouth was agape and he appeared to be frozen in an expression of disbelief.

"Is this the truth? You do love me?"

"With all of my heart."

He bent his head towards me and kissed me back.

* * *

Meg: Whew! I hope I'm not putting everyone out of character with all the romance.

JWJ: _(sarcastically)_ Dumb blondes and romance. Like anyone is ever going to catch someone just before the train leaves.

Emma: It works in the movies.

Meg: I woke up at 6:20 this morning and ran about 5 miles, then worked for eight hours. I got home around 9:30, and have been writing this since about 10:30. Now it's midnight, and I am so going to fall over dead. I do not know when my next story is going to come out because I am currently out of ideas. It was killer trying to find the time to write all of these chapters. We shall wait and see where the muse of writing takes me next.


End file.
